He Forgot The Milk
by SmexyScrapbooker
Summary: It's all Sam's fault that you're even in this position at 2 a.m. fighting over the last cherry pie. THANK. YOU. SAM. DeanXReader


**A/N: Welcome to my midnight-ish drabbles :) Hope you guys enjoy. Leave a review for appreciation cookies! Hostess and Nabisco obviously don't belong to me. Crowley might, but the cookies don't ;)  
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The MOL kitchen magically has the very best snacks at 2 a.m. when you can't sleep, which turns out to be more often than you'd like. Rummaging through the cupboards, you pull out a sleeve of Oreo cookies, a box of fruit roll-ups, and stretch up on your tiptoes to find the bowl of Hostess pies.

"Yes!" There's one cherry pie left. You start to open the little package and then immediately feel guilty, thinking of the man still curled up in your bed who would probably want this more than you do.

You look at the Oreos. Then at the pie. Then back to the Oreos…only to remember that Sam didn't go shopping, so you have no milk to dunk them in.

Pie it is. Dean will forgive you. Eventually.

The package falls away and you open your mouth-

"Step. away. from. the. pie."

You turn around guiltily, finding Dean standing there in nothing but his boxers. He's leaning against the doorframe with a lazy smirk on his face, weaponless and amused by the current blush that is staining your cheeks at having been caught. Now, how to get out of this sticky situation…

You decide to play the blame card.

"Sam didn't pick up any milk," you explain, barely keeping the whine out of your voice.

Dean takes a step toward you, far too predatory for your liking. "And?"

"And there's no cake." You take a tiny step backward.

Another step forward. "That's because you ate it all."

It takes a moment for you to process this, and then you blink once, twice, and bite out, "Did you just call me fat?"

"Wait, what? No!" Now he just looks confused.

You let a grin sweep across your features, feeling your chest puff out as you relish throwing Dean Winchester off his player game. "Gotcha." You raise the pie to your lips and nibble off part of the crust, taunting him.

In two strides, he's crossed the room and pinned you up against the counter, wrenched the pie from your hand and twisted your wrist at a funny angle. Not enough to hurt, just to feel uncomfortable.

"Ow," you mumble, more due to principle than actual damage, but his grip loosens anyways.

"Give me the pie," he whispers. It's fallen on the counter, sugar splattering everywhere, but neither of you move.

"Never," you grit out, lifting your nose up haughtily to where it barely brushes his chin. "You're going to have to fight me for it." You grin as you feel the beginnings of his erection stirring against your leg. "Oh good, you brought a sword."

He grins at you, but it's not a _nice_ grin, and a little shiver runs up your spine as you remember the good old days when Dean was a demon and he wasn't that nice to you. Thankfully, you guys had just been acquaintances then, but still…

As if sensing the change in your mood, Dean starts to step back, to let go of your wrist, and to essentially ruin all your fun tonight. So you hop up on the counter, careful to avoid the pie, and hook your legs around his waist. "Giving up? Already? Wow, Dean Winchester, I think you're getting old."

And your Dean is back, grin and twinkle firmly in place, sights that only you get to see in private most of the time. "Who said I was giving up, sweetheart?" His large hands settle on your hips and he moves even further between your legs so you can't pull away. "I've got you right where I want you now."

"Uh huh," you say, noncommittally and twist your knees, trying to plant them against his chest and push him away, but he knocks them down and forces your knees even wider. Your muscles complain slightly, but they give way to his demand. Seriously, your body is just one big pushover for Dean Winchester.

Before you can try anything else, his lips are on yours, taking and demanding that you give in to him. His tongue teases yours and it's not long before you're moaning into his mouth and he's rocking into you. One hand reaches up and tangles in your hair, pulling your head back while the other hand cups one breast and rolls your nipple.

Both instantly harden under his touch.

He pulls away to glare at you. "You steal my pie, you steal my shirt. Give it back, woman."

You huffily nod at the forgotten pie. "Take it, if you can."

He grins at you. "Not what I meant." You know what he meant. Your hands reach down to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning each and every button from one of his several button down shirts, taking an agonizingly-long time. Finally, he nudges your hands aside and does it himself. He groans when he realizes that you're not wearing anything underneath, a product of two hours ago when you both tumbled into bed.

Your hands reach for boxers but he pushes them away, instead taking one breast in his mouth and sucking hard on the nipple. You gasp as one of his fingers slides into your already wet pussy at the same time. Your head falls against the cabinets, and Dean barely looks up, just long enough to make sure you're alright, before grinning and returning to his work, adding another finger.

He alternates nipping at each nipple and laving them in turn with stroking your inner walls and curling his fingers up to hit your G-spot. "Oh god," you gasp out, and then slap his shoulder. "Don't ugh- don't say it."

You miss Dean's scowl. He loves to use the "Nope, just Dean," line on you when you get this way.

His fingers are working faster and faster against you and you're writhing against the counter, looking for absolutely any friction you can possibly find. You're grinding down on his hand when you can't hold on any longer and you gasp his name, coming around his fingers and squeezing them tightly. "Dean!"

He massages your G-spot gently, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can, and then his fingers are gone, leaving you feeling tired, but empty. His boxers are gone in a flash and you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. You crack your eyes open to see him sucking off his fingers, shit-eating grin splitting his face.

"Oh shut up," you grumble, opening your legs even wider.

It's his turn to hiss your name as he slides into you, gasping as your walls grip him tightly. "Shit, baby," he groans against your skin, hips giving an involuntary thrust, which sends your head back against the cabinets and you groan along with him.

"Oh god, Dean, please," you whimper. "Please move." You're trying to buck your hips forward, but he's got a tight hold on them, keeping them still. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes into you. Fully seated, he lets out another groan and pulls out, only to push back in a little faster.

"Fuck," he groans and glances down at the place you both are joined, watching his dick thrust in and out of you. "Come on baby, come for me again. Ahh! Yeah, come for me."

You can't help it. The dirty talk gets you every time. You feel your muscles start to tighten and that familiar jolt zips up your spine as you reach out and grab onto his shoulders, whimpering his name.

You walls tightening around him is his undoing and he gasps out your name as he climaxes, his hands tightening on your waist. His eyes meet yours and then they close blissfully, his head tilting down to rest on your breasts. You both breath heavily for several minutes, until finally, Dean turns his head a bit and nuzzles your breast.

"Now can I have the pie," he asks, his voice still a timbre lower than usual and you can't help but shiver. His "sex voice" as you call it could get him the entire world if he wanted it.

You nod shakily and smile. "We coulda shared, you know."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, slips on his boxers and cradles the pie, which looks a little worse for wear, ever so carefully in his hands. "Come back to bed and you can have a bite. A _bite_." He winks and then heads out of the kitchen, grumbling about being whipped and having to share his pie.

You grin and wobbly hop down from the counter, so grateful that Sam ditched his grocery duties.


End file.
